


Honeymooning

by starrdust411



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flirting, Fluff and Crack, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roleplay, Undercover as Married, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:44:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2573750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrdust411/pseuds/starrdust411
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam took a step back from the door, laughing quietly to himself as he rubbed at his eyes, pushing the frames of his glasses up to his forehead in the process. "Whoa, what are we doing?" He chuckled, shaking his head at how ridiculous he sounded. "I'm sorry man this... this is getting weird."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sick and all I want is pointless smut with Steve in a dress so... here it is.

Sam frowned as he absent mindedly stroked the smooth hairless patch of skin on his chin, still fresh from the morning's shave. Each stroke of his fingers made him miss the slight scrape of facial hair and he quietly decided in that moment he hated Natasha for making him shave. Yet he had to admit she was right, taking out Hydra sporting the same look day in and day out would make him more recognizable and it made sense for him to sacrifice his goatee for the sake of anonymity.

A hand pressed down on his shoulder, offering him a supportive squeeze and when Sam turned he found himself pushing the pair of fake glasses he was sporting up the bridge of his nose after they slipped downwards in response to his movements. "You okay?" Steve asked; his voice and face filled with concern and Sam had to fight against the urge to laugh at that. From the way Steve was acting it would almost seem as if Sam had been the one to get the raw end of this deal, as if _Steve_ weren't the one standing on the platform in a dress and heels, hiding his face under a bad wig and a pound of makeup.

It was Natasha's idea, of course it was, that the two of them go undercover disguised as a pair of newlyweds, because this latest Hydra base was located in the rural French countryside near a quaint little hotel that catered almost exclusively to couples. (Sam didn't quite get why an organization made up of kinda Super-Nazis had to establish one of their bases in the country, but he supposed that even evil organizations wanted a pleasant scenery to look at.) There were at least a dozen flaws with this plan, all of which Sam had pointed out and Natasha had managed to dismiss in her usual confident manner.

"If we have to go in as a couple, why can't we just be a same sex couple?" Sam had asked as he squeezed the shaving foam into the palm of his hand, his stomach still knotted up with frustration at the idea of cutting off the facial hair he had been sporting for more than five years.

"Rural French countrymen won't be any more accepting of an interracial gay couple than they would in the States, Wilson," Natasha reasoned knowingly as she sat across from Steve on the rickety safe house bed, coating his already smooth skin with concealer in an attempt to soften his features. Looking back Sam had to marvel at how complacent Steve was about the whole thing, never once making a fuss even when Natasha had decided he would have to be the one to play the wife. 

"But a hetero interracial couple will be just fine?" Sam shot back as he reluctantly lathered up his face. Somehow a part of him felt certain that he could still talk his way out of having to shave if he just tried hard enough.

"Well if I'm stuck playing the missus alongside Steve, then _you'd_ be in charge of gathering intel. You said it yourself, Sam, you're a better soldier than spy." She smirked as she moved on to painting Steve's already pink lips a deep red with a tube of lipstick from the pile of supplies spread out across the dingy quilt. "Besides, Captain America has one of the most recognizable faces in the world. I think we can do a bit better than putting him in a ball cap and phony glasses now that we have a bit more time and resources."

"And just how long will we have to be playing Mr. and Mrs. Wilson?"

From the reflection in the mirror, Sam saw Steve's face flush pink even underneath the layer of foundation and concealer as his shoulders hunched in embarrassment at Natasha's teasing grin. "One day tops," she said easily before moving on to work on Steve's lashes. "I've already made all the arrangements. You'll be fine."

Natasha had left them with two suitcases filled with supplies and three days worth of clothes to go along with their disguises as well as with the train tickets currently tucked away inside of Steve's purse.

Steve was still looking at him, his blue eyes appearing even wider and doe like framed by thick mascara coated lashes. Sam had his doubts about Steve's ability to pass as a woman, given his wide shoulders and muscular frame, but he found that Steve had a way of making himself look smaller, even if he still towered over most people, by hunching his shoulders and bowing his head so that the honey colored wig Natasha had given him hid and softened most of his features. The dress he was wearing went down just past his knees and was white with red and pink flowers scattered across the soft material. Natasha had suggested using sweaters to cover Steve's thick arms and Sam had to marvel that the illusion worked surprisingly well.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Sam said at length as he draped his arm across Steve's shoulder, pulling him close against his side. Steve raised a brow at the sudden gesture and Sam shrugged in response. "We're newlyweds, remember?" he whispered as they walked towards their train. "We gotta act the part."

"Right," Steve chuckled, his voice softened to a breathy whisper that was surprisingly feminine and natural. Steve's own arm snaked itself around Sam's waist, resting there warm and easy and it was surprisingly simple for the two of them to walk together like that. "You're right."

They handed over their tickets and stepped aboard to find their way to their seats. When the train pulled out of the station Sam was grateful to discover that the set of seats across from theirs was still vacant. He was tempted to take advantage of this stroke of luck by moving over to the other side and allowing Steve some room, but he pushed that idea aside when he remembered that they were supposed to be married and what sort of husband would want space from his wife when they were still on their honeymoon.

The train had barely moved out of the station when Sam looked over to Steve and saw that his face had gone a touch paler and that his leg was starting to jitter. He glanced at Steve's hands and the way they clutched at the cushioned seats with enough force to tear the padding clean off. "Hey, you alright?" Sam asked as he touched his hand to Steve's whitened knuckles.

"Yeah, I..." Steve shook his head and chuckled before starting over in his female voice. "I just don't like trains."

Sam nodded in understanding. Steve had told him about Bucky and the fall, but Sam had already known having read about that in history books back in his school days. Natasha must have known as well, but she had booked the train for them anyway. He had a feeling if they questioned her, Natasha would just pull out some seemingly reasonable excuse to placate them. "It's okay. The ride's not that long. You'll be fine."

"I'm not..." Steve began, but quickly stopped himself, his drained face interrupted by a slight flush coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears and Sam got it right away.

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere," he assured him, giving his hand a quick squeeze. "Unless I have to pee, that is."

Steve chuckled and glanced around them, likely noticing the way the other passengers were staring at them with quiet concern. He shifted closer until he was flush against Sam's side with his face resting against Sam's shoulder as the hairs of his wig brushed against Sam's jaw line. "Put your arm around me," Steve instructed and Sam did as directed, because the last thing they needed was for people to think he was a bad husband. Steve closed his eyes, likely in an attempt to make himself relax, but his breathing was still coming out fast and his shoulders were too tense so Sam decided to help by rubbing at his arms. "I'm sorry you had to shave for this," Steve mumbled, his words a bit muffled against the fabric of Sam's mauve sweater. "It sucks."

"Yeah, well, my hair grows pretty fast," Sam shrugged as he continued rubbing soothing circles against Steve's shoulder. The tension was slowly starting to ease and Sam hoped they looked like a husband soothing his wife and not two friends trying to put up a front. "I'll have my stache and chin stubble back in a week tops."

Steve hummed, nodding against Sam's chest as he made to stuff his hands into his lap and out of sight. Steve was convinced that his hands would give him away since they were so large and undeniably masculine and Sam didn't bother to point out the dozen or so other features that might arouse some suspicion before anyone could get a good look at his fingers. "The glasses look good though," Steve said with a slight grin. "Make you look smart."

Sam laughed and touched the thick black frames with the tip of his fingers. They were still slipping every now and then, but he was slowly starting to get used to their presence on his face, even if they did pinch a bit. "I don't need glasses to look smart," he shot back.

They were silent for a moment, sitting in their seats and watching the countryside whiz by as the cabin rocked steadily with the motion of the tracks. After a while Steve gave Sam's side a light, playful swat, drawing his attention back towards him. "Really? Nothing to say to your blushing bride?" Steve teased.

"Oh it's like that huh?" he chuckled.

"Yeah, it's like that! What kinda husband are you?"

"A pretend one," he muttered low and under his breath, before adding in a normal tone, "Fine, you want me to write a sonnet about your baby blue eyes?"

"No, you missed it. The moment passed." Steve huffed with mock finality as he buried his head further against Sam's side. "To think of all the men I could have pretend married..."

"Okay, you need to stop."

"Fake women like me don't come along every day, you know."

"This is going to be a long trip."

\--

It turned out that French guys loved Steve. At least the men around there seemed to since every guy was making eyes at Steve from the moment they got off of the train. Sam didn't understand why with all the beautiful girls around the men would be digging on the six foot two dude in a dress, but he figured it was a cultural thing and decided not to dwell on it.

They took a rickety old cab that smelled like rust and wet fabric to the hotel where the bell hop took their bags and kept checking out Steve's ass when he thought that Sam wasn't looking. Sam decided right away that the kid would not be getting a tip for that.

"I'll stay with the bags while you check in... honey," Steve said awkwardly as he leaned forward in order to press his cheek against Sam's in an imitation of a kiss.

"Watch your ass around the bellboy," Sam muttered seriously before taking the fake IDs Natasha had made for them over to the counter.

Steve flushed as he nervously smoothed the fabric on the back of his skirt before sitting at one of the chairs set on the other side of the lobby near the concierge desk.

Sam checked in under the name Roger Wilson and had to fight off the urge to laugh at Natasha's astonishing lack of subtly. The young woman at the front desk smiled brightly at him as she handed over a set of brass keys with a chipped plastic key chain dangling off the end. "Honeymoon suit, monsiuer, as requested," she said in heavily accented English. Her whole demeanor was so pleasant that Sam couldn't help laugh, both at her and just how far Natasha had gone with this set up.

"Thanks," he grumbled, taking the keys with a soft chuckle. "Merci."

Sam turned around to see that the concierge was now sitting across from Steve, grinning too broadly as he spoke in hushed tones while Steve flashed him a pained smile and squirmed away. Sam rolled his eyes, because he couldn't understand why Steve was putting up with all this when it would have been so easy for him to send the creep packing. Something inside of him felt hot and sharp as he watched the concierge try to put his hand on Steve's knee before Steve shifted and moved out of the way.

"Hey baby, ready to go?" Sam asked, purposely making his voice loud and deep as he walked over and placed his hand firmly on Steve's broad shoulder. The concierge jumped at the sight of him, startled by his sudden arrival, and Sam had to admit that he took a small amount of pleasure out of that.

"I'm ready, honey," Steve grinned as he stood and looped their arms together. "I was just having a little chat with the concierge. He was telling me about a nice little restaurant in town we should visit."

The other man bowed his head in embarrassment before slinking away as Sam and Steve carried their own bags up the stairs themselves. "Seriously, man? That dude was sitting there hitting on you and you didn't even think about telling him to fuck off?"

"Of course I told him off," Steve huffed, doing his best to make it appear that the act of carrying the oversized luggage _wasn't_ a walk in the park. "I told him two times to leave me alone, but he ignored me."

"Well you could have been a little more forward about it," Sam grumbled as they stopped in front of the door to their room. He put down his own bag in order to fish out the key, rolling his eyes at the sight of the heart keychain.

"How forward do you want me to be? Do you want me to go hyper masculine on him and break the guy's hand, potentially blowing cover and our mission just because my pretend husband doesn't want other men flirting with me?"

Sam took a step back from the door, laughing quietly to himself as he rubbed at his eyes, pushing the frames of his glasses up to his forehead in the process. "Whoa, what are we doing?" He chuckled, shaking his head at how ridiculous he sounded. "I'm sorry man this... this is getting weird."

"A little weird," Steve agreed as he tugged at the sleeve of his mustard colored cardigan. "Let's just get ready for tonight."

"Why? What's happening tonight?" Sam teased as he finished unlocking the door with an audible click.

"Well, we are honeymooning," Steve joked as he gathered up their bags and brought them into the room.

The space was average hotel room size, but being the honeymoon suit, Sam suspected it was likely the biggest one in the small building. The main window was large and framed by curtains that went down to the floor. Light from the late afternoon sun bathed the entire room in a golden sort of glow and everywhere Sam looked there were flowers; flowers on the wall paper, flowers in framed pictures, flowers on the curtains, and real bouquets of freshly cut roses of all shades and hues framing the narrow full sized bed.

"Well, at least it’s not more hearts," Sam reasoned as he pushed the door shut and locked it behind them.

Steve turned to Sam and smiled, fluttering his ridiculously long lashes playfully. "Are you going to carry me to the bed?"

"Are you kidding me?" Sam laughed. "Nuh uh! I'm not throwing my back out just to amuse you."

"I seem to remember someone being able to lift me just fine with one arm."

"Yeah, and I nearly tore that arm _clean off_ in the process."

Steve pinned him with an exaggerated pout, his blue eyes looking remarkably puppy like as he pleaded with Sam to play along. When it became clear that Sam simply wouldn't give in, Steve wrapped his arms around Sam's neck and lifted his legs high in the air. The move left Sam with only two options: brace himself and carry Steve or be sent crashing to the floor. Naturally he chose the former, looping one arm beneath Steve's bent knees and the other behind his back just in time to catch him. He wobbled for a moment, but it was only a moment and Sam found that Steve wasn't nearly as heavy as he had expected him to be. That didn't mean he was light either, because it took everything Sam had in him to walk the three steps from the door over to the bed in order to safely deposit Steve there. Steve landed with a bounce that sent his skirt into a light plume and Sam sighed as he slumped back against the headboard in order to catch his breath.

"Satisfied?" Sam breathed once he had flexed his arms in order to make sure they were still attached to his side.

"Yes," Steve chuckled as he shifted on the bed in order to give Sam more room to spread out.

"God you are such a demanding fake wife. Why did I ever fake marry you?"

"Because you fake proposed and I fake accepted."

Sam chortled as he kicked off his shoes before lifting his legs onto the mattress. It was much softer than it looked and the air was soft and sweet enough that it made his whole body begin to relax.

The sound of two thuds hitting the floor and the creak in the bed alerted Sam to the fact that Steve had just slipped out of his own shoes before laying back down and curling up next to Sam. "Did you get any sleep on the train?" Steve asked, his head pillowed on Sam's chest just as it had been before and Sam was tempted to push that ridiculous wig off of his head.

"Some," he yawned, remembering how he had nodded in and out of sleep while pinned against the metal wall thanks to Steve's body pressing up against him. It hadn't been a particularly unpleasant experience, because the train car had been quite cold while Steve naturally seemed to run hot.

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to get a bit more rest before tonight," Steve reasoned and Sam had to wonder if it was something about the country air that was making him drowsy since Steve never seemed to sleep this much. "I really am sorry about all this."

"It's not so bad. I'm not the one in the dress and heels."

He could feel the way Steve was smiling against his chest as he laughed softly into Sam's sweater. "It's not so bad either."

"Yeah, I guess it wouldn't be, seeing how cute you look all fixed up."

"Oh, now I get a compliment?" he said, head popping up in order to glare lightheartedly in Sam's direction. "You've got _some_ timing there, Mr. Wilson."

"Yeah, well, maybe if Mrs. Wilson didn't fish for compliments so much..." He watched as Steve's cheeks turned a touch pink at the name and Sam found himself growing a bit more alert at the sight. "Hey, are you really okay with playing my missus?"

"Yeah, of course I am. You're a good guy to be married to. Even if you are the jealous type."

Sam huffed as he sat up, propping himself up against the pillows with his elbow. "You try not getting jealous when you see a dozen guys making eyes at your girl." It was Sam's turn to bow his head and flush. He cleared his throat as his mind scrambled to come up with something to say in order to explain himself, but when he looked up he found his vision obscured by Steve. 

Their lips pressed together with a muffled sigh and Sam felt his body go tense for all of two seconds as he processed the fact that Captain America was kissing him, soft and gentle with one uncertain hand shyly resting on his bicep. Steve's lips were surprisingly warm against his mouth, the lipstick creating a smooth gloss between them, but Sam felt something deep inside him stir in a way that said clearly he would have been into this even if it weren't for the dress or makeup.

"I'm sorry," Steve gasped when they parted only a few seconds later, his face cherry red as he pulled away with a mixture of reluctance and shame. "I'm sorry. I... I got carried away."

"It's okay," Sam breathed as he looped an arm around Steve's waist and pressed the two of them together once more. "It's okay."

Sam initiated the kiss this time, his tongue flickering against Steve's painted lips and finding the taste to be surprisingly sweet. His mouth was warm and even sweeter than his gloss coated lips and Sam had to wonder just why they hadn't tried doing this before, because kissing Steve was too good and so easy. 

"Sam," Steve gasped as he held onto him desperately, saying his name like a prayer as Sam pressed Steve into the bed beneath him.

"I know," he managed to say as he leaned back in order to pull his shirt and sweater off and over his head. "Too much clothes."

Steve nodded in agreement, shrugging out of his cardigan and tossing the wig aside as Sam got to work on his belt. The belt came off with two quick tugs which seemed to be just long enough for Steve to have lost his patience as he pulled Sam back down on top of him. "Leave them," Steve groaned when Sam's glasses slid across his nose and bumped between them as they kissed. "Leave the glasses."

"Sure thing baby," Sam chuckled as he kissed his way down Steve's chin, his jaw, his throat, before latching on to the smooth skin of his collar. He smelled like wild flowers and spices and the faint hint of concealer greeted Sam's tongue when he traced the outline of Steve's collarbone with his tongue.

Steve moaned as he arched upward, pressing himself flush against Sam in a way that made his arousal very clear as it nudge into Sam's hip. "Sam," Steve panted. "Please. Call me 'Mrs. Wilson.'"

Sam decided then that it was only because they were in the heat of the moment that he did not laugh out loud at that, because if it were any other time that sort of request would not have made something in him tighten and throb as the urge to flip Steve's skirt and take him the way a man would take his wife churned through him.

He hummed and slipped a hand between them, beneath the fabric of the skirt still draped across Steve's legs in order to press his palm against Steve's sturdy stocking wrapped thighs and give them a quick rub. "In that case, the dress stays," Sam decided as he pressed a quick kiss to Steve's lips, the lipstick only slightly smudged against his mouth. "And we are honeymooning tonight."

Steve all but melted against the mattress at that as Sam quickly rolled off in order to check their bags. "Let's see what other treats our travel agent packed us," he said as he pulled open the nearest suitcase and was not the least bit surprised to find a bottle of lubricant and a pack of condoms. He decided right away that this more than made up for shaving his mustache.

"Okay, Mrs. Wilson," Sam said once he was back on the bed and settled between Steve's legs. "Let's get you a bit warmed up first."

Steve nodded as Sam rolled the skirt up to his waist, finding Steve's cock straining against the silky fabric of the rose colored panties he was currently wearing. "This Natasha's idea too?" Sam chuckled as he palmed the straining front teasingly.

"God, Sam, just..."

"Mr. Wilson," Sam chided lightly as he tugged Steve's panties down in the back, just enough to give him better access. "If you're the missus, I'm the mister."

Steve was too strung out to give a proper answer, a breathy "Oh" the only thing that escaped his painted lips as Sam slipped one slick finger inside. His face was flushed and glistening as he lay there, adjusting to the feel of Sam's finger. The urge to add a second was tempting, but Sam waited until Steve was good and ready before sliding in. Steve huffed another " _Oh_!" this one more pitched and desperate as he wrapped his arms around Sam's bare back. "God, don't make me wait!" Steve begged as he rutted against him, nearly fucking himself on Sam's fingers. "Give it to me, Mr. Wilson. Please honey, fuck me!"

"You got it baby," Sam huffed as he slid his fingers out and positioned himself carefully. "Your man's gonna give it to you."

Steve jerked as Sam slid in, his grip on Sam tightening in a way that was almost painful, but Sam waited, rubbing his nose at Steve's neck and kissing the spot just behind his ear until he began melting in his arms again. "Now," Steve half panted, half begged as he hitched his leg against Sam's hip. "Now, Wilson, now!"

"Yes, ma'am," Sam murmured as he began rocking into him. "Yes, Mrs. Wilson."

Steve was hot and tight as Sam rocked in him, meeting him thrust for thrust. The fabric of the skirt was soft trapped between them, and for the first time Sam noticed that there was padding in the front of Steve's dress, just enough to create a hint of breasts. Even without the wig it was ridiculous how womanly Steve looked and suddenly Sam knew just why all those men had been falling all over themselves to hit on Steve.

"God, you're so beautiful," Sam grunted as his hands rested comfortably on Steve’s narrow waist. He could tell he was hitting the sweet spot from the way Steve was panting, the steady stream of "oh-oh- _oh_ " pouring out of him. "So damn _pretty_."

"Sam! _Sam_!" he gasped as he hit his crest, coming apart under Sam's touch and the sight of it was just enough to make Sam lose his grasp as well.

They collapsed together in a heap on the bed, both of them feeling boneless and pleasantly drained. Sam allowed himself to stay, unmoving, for a few minutes before using the little bit of energy that had reemerged to take his glasses and toss them across the room. "Pinching my damn nose," he grumbled as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

Steve chuckled breathlessly as he rolled over in order to drape himself against Sam and it suddenly hit him that cuddling together was starting to feel pretty natural. "That restaurant in town? Tomorrow night... you wanna go?"

"You askin' me out on a date?" he chuckled as he wrapped his arm across Steve's shoulder. The sun had sank just a bit further into the sky and in just a few hours they would need to suit up and go, but that was a few hours away, which gave them enough time to sort things out.

"Well, if everything goes smoothly tonight, we'll still have two extra sets of clothes and this room til morning."

Sam nodded lazily at that. "Maybe," he said. "Maybe we can see about keeping this room for one more night."

"Maybe more," Steve laughed. "How long do most honeymoons last?"

"A week. Two tops."

Steve smiled and closed his eyes against Sam's bare chest. "Two weeks then," he decided. "I'll probably have to get a few more things to wear."

Sam chuckled and ran his fingers through Steve's hair. "Whatever you say, Mrs. Wilson."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this because I got sick again and wanted to cheer myself up. I decided to add this as another chapter instead of a series of one shots because I thought it would be less confusing. There's a strong possibility of a part 3, but for now I'm just listing this as 2/2 to be safe.

Waking up the next morning hadn't been what Sam had expected. A part of him (an admittedly large part) had thought that he and Steve would wake up cuddled together peacefully between the sheets, that somehow they would have rediscovered the afterglow left behind in the early evening and lay intertwined like a couple of pups sharing warmth. Instead, when Sam opened his eyes that morning it was to find he was alone in the bed, an awkward sort of tension building within the room as Steve puttered around in a t-shirt and a pair of boxers straightening up and putting away the supplies they had been too exhausted to store the previous night.

Sam knew right away that this was a result of their mission (which hadn't gone badly per se, because the countryside Hydra base had been easy to take down, but it had also yielded no new information that could help them moving forward) and the likely painful and somewhat embarrassing realization of just what they had done last night. They had crossed a line in their relationship, one that would be impossible to go back on, because how were you supposed to shrug off having slightly kinky gay sex with your friend and partner.

He pressed the heel of his palm over his eyes as he laid back and remembered the feeling of being with Steve, of how hot and tight he had felt and the choked noises he had made as they rocked together. Sam knew that it was all a bad idea, that he should regret every part of it, but he didn't and worst of all he wanted it, wanted _Steve_ , again.

Sam groaned and rubbed the last bit of sleep out of his eyes just as Steve began digging through their suitcases. "What time is it?" Sam asked he shifted into a sitting position on the bed.

Steve looked up at him with a mildly startled expression before turning to look over at the clock resting on the bedside table. "Half past nine," he said as he pulled out a pair of slacks and a button down shirt and Sam realized for the first time that Steve was looking through _his_ bag. "Hey, you don't mind if I borrow this, do you?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah, of course not," he shrugged. "But don't you think it would look kinda weird? Me walking in here with a wife and then walking out with a..."

Steve got the point, but said nothing as he bowed his head in a poor attempt to hide the blush spreading across his pale cheeks. Sam knew right away what this was about, knew that Steve was trying to avoid having Sam see him like that again so that they could potentially avoid another repeat of yesterday's pre-mission work out and frankly that didn't seem fair. After all, Steve had been the one to initiate things, had been the one to do most of the flirting and the one who had kissed Sam.

Again Sam shook his head, because if tip toeing around the situation made things easier on Steve, then he should just let it pass without a fuss. "Go for it man," Sam relented as he slipped out of bed, bare feet touching the somewhat gritty hotel carpet as he tugged at the hem of his boxers in order to unroll the fabric from around his hips. "There's another set I can wear anyway."

"Thanks," Steve said and Sam found that he could actually hear the relief in Steve's voice as he took the clothes and headed towards the small corner bathroom. 

Steve had barely managed to take two steps towards the other end of the room when a sharp knock cut through the air. Sam looked at Steve, who looked back at him with a confused frown. He scanned the room quickly to find that all the tools from last night had been put away and even Steve's wig and padded bra were stored and out of sight. Still Sam reached for the gun he already knew was stored inside one of the side tables.

"Who is it?" Sam called out as he crept over to the door as Steve pressed himself up against the wall ready to spring into action.

"Room service, monsieur," a woman's voice said, polite and pleasantly accented.

"We didn't order room service."

"Compliments de la maison."

Sam frowned as he pressed against the door in order to look through the peep hole. In the hall was a petite woman with flame red hair wearing a bellhop uniform and holding a domed tray of food. He signaled for Steve to relax before tucking the in his waistband and opening the door to let Natasha inside. She stepped in just as Steve shut the bathroom door behind him.

"I brought you boys some breakfast," Natasha announced as she set the silver tray on top of the bureau across from the bed. "Figured you might want to have something to eat while we go over the notes from last night."

"What’s there to go over?" Sam shrugged as he walked over to the tray in order to inspect the food inside. He found two mugs of black coffee accompanying a large bowl of fresh cut fruit, a few baguette slices, and a dish of butter. It wasn't the most filling breakfast Sam had ever seen, but he reasoned that it was just another cultural difference and lifted one of the coffee mugs off of the tray. "That base didn't exactly provide a wealth of new information. It was sort of a waste of a trip."

"That's not exactly true," Natasha said coyly as she sat down across from Sam at the foot of the bed. A satisfied smirk curled the corners of her full lips as she crossed one leg in order to rest her elbow on top and grin up at Sam. "I'm sure you and Steve had some fun before the action started."

Sam hadn't known Natasha for very long, but he knew her well enough to realize that playing dumb didn't work. He merely frowned over the rim of his mug as he took a slow sip of the brew. It was still warm and quite strong, but even without cream and sugar the taste was fairly pleasant. "How'd you guess?"

"Being able to read people is a big part of what I do, Wilson," Natasha said dully as she leaned back on the bed, elbows now resting against the rumbled sheets. "And last night, the two of you had 'we just fucked' written all over you."

"Which is exactly what you wanted to see, right?" Sam asked as he swapped his coffee for one of the baguettes. "I mean the condoms?"

"I knew there was a chance," she shrugged not looking the least bit sheepish or ashamed and Sam realized it was foolish to think that even for a second she would. "It's best to be prepared."

"Yeah, well you're not getting any of the gory details out of me," he smirked as he slathered a good helping of butter on top of the bread. "I'm not the type to kiss and tell. And good luck trying to get anything out of Steve. I'm sure he'd be less than forth coming about that sort of thing."

"I'm sure," she agreed.

The two sat together in a comfortable silence as they waited for Steve to get out of the shower. Sam pulled out his iPod and played some music while he finished off his half of the breakfast. It was hard not to go back for more, because the fruit was flavorful and juicy and those baguettes were probably the softest bread he had ever eaten, and even after finishing his share Sam still felt like he could go for a whole other helping. Yet he held back, knowing that if he was this hungry, then Steve likely felt half starved.

Natasha was in the middle of reminding Sam that their check out time would be in an hour when Steve finally emerged wearing the shirt and pants he had taken from Sam's luggage. He looked just like his usual self, but the awkward tension he was carrying had not disappeared in the shower.

"No, that's not going to work," Natasha said, frowning in disapproval at the sight of him. "You are not going to walk out of here dressed like that."

"Why not?" Steve countered defensively, his hands resting at his narrow hips in his usual Captain America stance. "I walked in and out of here easily enough last night dressed like myself."

"Yeah, but that was in the middle of the night before even the farmers were up," she pointed out. "Not to mention we just pancaked the base of an evil organization consisting of ex-Nazi super spies with a vendetta against you. Walking around out in the open as Steve Rogers is a sure fire way of drawing a lot of unwanted attention from all the wrong people."

Steve squared his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest and Sam couldn't help noticing that Steve was putting up more of a fight over this now than he had when the uncover idea had first come up. "You said that we would only have to do this for one day."

"Yeah, one day meaning in and out. You got in and now we have to get you back out. Now where's the wig? We have to work on your hair and makeup."

Steve said nothing and Sam could tell that he wasn't going to budge on this and the idea of sitting back and watching the two go at it was infinitely less appealing than the prospect of a warm shower and a clean set of clothes. He grabbed the last pair of clothes stuffed in the suitcase and walked back into the still humid bathroom.

Stubble was already beginning to sprout on his chin and cheeks so Sam reluctantly took out his razor and shaving foam in order to keep up his own disguise. He knew that it was pointless fighting, especially since by the end of the day they would most likely be on their way out of the country and back to the states where he could go ahead and slip back into his old look. The water was still hot when he stepped in under the spray and Sam decided to take his time in the pleasant mist.

It was probably a good thirty minutes before Sam finally shut off the water and toweled dry. He changed into a white shirt, burgundy sweater vest, and khakis. Sam understood that he was playing a part, but he had to frown a bit at the outfit that looked like something that could be found in a J. Crew ad. The only thing missing were his fake glasses, which he had thrown across the room last night and hadn't bothered looking for afterwards. 

He closed his eyes and shook his head at the memory, of collapsing on top of Steve soaked with sweat and still tingling. They had basked in the afterglow of their passion for a good half hour before drifting off to sleep curled together calm and comfortable. He wanted that again, wanted to be there with Steve, but he already knew that it wasn't going to happen. Steve was pulling away and Sam had a feeling he would be his usual tight lipped self about the whole thing. Yet he knew he couldn't just let this go by without clearing the air.

Sam half expected to find Steve and Natasha still going at it when he stepped out, but instead he saw that Natasha had managed to convince Steve to slip back into his disguise. He was sitting cross legged and resigned on the bed that was now freshly made and littered with tubes of lipstick, bottles of concealer, and other makeup supplies as Natasha put the finishing touches on the outfit. The dress was canary yellow with blue polka dots and the forest green sweater did a good job complimenting the colors. Natasha had styled the wig so that it looked more like actual hair and less like a prop. The honey colored strands were pulled back into a loose braid with a few fringes of hair framing Steve's face. Sam didn't know if the bookish, innocent look worked well with Steve's squared chin and broad shouldered physic, but the awkward and uncomfortable air around him was certainly helping.

"Your glasses are on the desk by the breakfast tray," Natasha told him, her eyes still focused on the rubber band she was using to tie off the end of Steve's braid. Her mouth was in its usual neutral set, but Sam was able to catch a slightly mischievous gleam when he walked over to the bureau in order to retrieve his phony glasses. "It's almost eleven and your train leaves at twelve. That should be enough time for you two to clear out and grab a cab to the station."

"Actually, we've got dinner plans," Sam said as he wiped off the smudges that had found their way onto the glass lenses.

Steve stiffened in open discomfort at the announcement, his cheeks turning a light pink as Natasha pinned his back with an appraising look. "No. No we don't... I..." He cleared his throat and tugged at his sleeves. "We gotta catch that train."

"Actually, we need to talk."

\--

There wasn't much to the main floor of the hotel beyond the decently sized lobby with the sleazy concierge and on property kitchen that only supplied room service, so they walked out to the garden in search of some privacy and Sam was annoyed that the concierge still gave Steve the eye when they walked past his desk even though Sam was right next to him. The garden was of a decent size with plenty of benches and tables to sit out and bask in the warmth of the sun. It was littered with couples cooing and making kissy faces at one another, which was exactly the opposite of what either of them wanted to see.

On the far end of the property, they spotted what looked like a hedge maze that had seen better days with its over grown and unkempt bushes and Sam had to wonder if the hotel was having some sort of dispute with the gardeners. There was a stack of gardening supplies piled up by the entrance and a hand written note that Steve translated as a notice to the patrons to stay out. It was the perfect spot for them to speak in private. 

They snuck inside when no one was looking and wandered around until they were deep enough within the lush green structure that they felt safely hidden away from the rest of the world. "So, we need to talk about this," Sam said as he took a seat on the moss covered stone bench and motioned for Steve to do the same. Steve went momentarily stiff before easing himself down and the fact that he was practically balancing himself on the very edge of the bench did not escape Sam's notice. Sam sighed and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he channeled all of his counseling experience in order to make it through this conversation. "We can't ignore what happened last night. It'll be best for both of us if we just cleared the air and get it all out of the way."

Steve nodded as a strong gust of wind passed by over head. The hedges were tall enough to block out most of the breeze, but there was still enough to cause the bits of hair framing Steve's face to tickle his chin and cheeks. A part of Sam was tempted to reach out and brush them aside, but he fought off the urge by clasping his hands together and waiting for Steve's response. "Okay," he said at length, brushing the bits of hair behind his own ear. "What would you like to talk about?"

Sam chuckled and rubbed his hands together. "Okay, let's start from the beginning. Why did you kiss me?"

Steve flushed. "Well, you kissed me back."

Sam pinned Steve with a half hearted frown at that, because in a way he was right. Steve had kissed him first, but it was a soft gentle kiss, one that would have been very easy to break away from. Yet that still did not change the fact that it was Steve who had initiated it, who had closed his eyes and pressed their lips together in a way that was shy and uncertain, but still hopeful. "No need to get defensive, Rogers. This isn't a fight. This is just two friends talking and trying to figure some things out."

"I know, I'm sorry," he sighed. His back went ridged as he gripped the end of the bench, his hands flexing so tightly Sam was momentarily worried he would break off a chunk of the stone slab in his palms. "I... I dunno why I did it." His face went from pink to near red as he considered his next words carefully. "Maybe... It was because you called me your girl. The whole jealously thing was silly, but... I dunno. I guess I liked the idea of being yours, of belonging to something, to someone."

"You're Captain America," Sam whispered conspiringly. "You belong-"

"My name and face are public domain properties that people use to prove points and win meaningless arguments." He huffed, a distasteful look twisting his face as his grip flexed against what once must have been polished marble. "I read an article once calling me 'the epitome of conservative ideology' and said that I would have 'whole heartedly endorsed Ronald Regan and his vision for America.'" He shook his head at that, the gesture causing the strands of hair he had tucked away to slip loose and fall against his smooth cheek once more. "I don't know what any of that means, but I don't like the fact that someone said it without my consent _and_ thousands of people believed it."

"Steve."

"Look, I know this is just pretend, that it's all just part of a game, but... I dunno. I liked it when you called me your girl, when you called me Mrs. Wilson. It made me feel like..."

He didn't say any more, but Sam already understood. He had known for a long time that Steve was lonely, because anyone in his situation would be. Even coming on three years in the future, Steve was still a man out of time and the only two people he knew and cared about hardly remembered him at all. The idea of being married to Sam, even just for a little while, probably helped to push those feelings aside and focus on the future, even if it was a pretend one, instead of dwelling on the past.

"You mean a lot to me Sam," Steve said, his shoulders taking on a disappointed slump as his eyes pointedly avoided meeting Sam's gaze. "Our friendship is really important to me. I don't anything to ruin it."

Sam sighed and placed his hand on top of Steve's offering the tensed knuckles a soothing pat. "I know. You mean a lot to me too, but... I'm not gonna lie, last night was good, _so_ good, but..."

"We can't," Steve finished with a heavy sigh. "We can't take this home; we can't bring this with us. It'll just make things complicated."

His insides felt heavy with disappointment, his throat tight even as he nodded at Steve's words. It may have been brief, but it was painful to think that they would never have another moment like that again.

Sam frowned and shook those thoughts out of his head. _Nah. Fuck that,_ he thought to himself before turning towards Steve and gently tugging at his arm. "Come here, baby," he whispered soothingly, his tone soft and even enough that Steve actually shifted towards him. Sam smiled and coaxed Steve even closer, pulling at him with gentle encouragement until he was sitting with his legs resting across Sam's lap, the polka dotted skirt draping over them like a blanket and the sun casting a halo of sorts around the top of Steve's wig. He was flushed and near trembling when Sam reached up a gentle hand and brushed at his cheek with the pad of his thumb, staring Steve straight in the eye to make sure there was no doubt about his sincerity. "All joking aside Steve, I care about you, a lot, and the last thing I wanna do is take advantage, but this… this isn’t something we can just forget about. We started something last night and I think we should see it through."

"Sam," Steve breathed, his chest heaving as he touched an uncertain hand to Sam's shoulder. His baby blue eyes were filled with so many emotions, hesitance and fear and hope, all churning inside of him as he gazed down at Sam. "I want this, I really do, but… I just don’t know. I don’t know if I’m in a place where I can be in a relationship with anyone right now."

Sam tilted his head up and kissed him, light and quick but just enough to produce a desperate sort of groan from Steve's red lips. "I’m not saying we have to up and get married right now. Just that we should try and see where this can go, maybe take a little break from this whole Hydra thing to figure out if this is something we wanna work on."

"You mean… you wanna keep honeymooning?"

"Something like that," Sam chuckled. He kissed him again, enjoying feel of their noses bumping together, and the way Steve shuddered with every press of their lips. "We don't even have to stay here if you want. We could take this show on the road. Go to Paris, Milan, maybe even Rome."

Steve sighed and wrapped his arms around Sam's shoulders, a clear edge of desperation to his touch. "Well, someone did promise me two weeks."

Sam nodded at that, because if anyone needed a vacation, it was definitely Steve Rogers. "Two weeks it is then." 

Steve dove in for another kiss, pressing their mouths together with almost enough force to knock Sam on his back, but he managed to catch himself by bracing one hand against the stone bench as his other held Steve by the waist. Steve was practically straddling him now, attacking Sam's mouth with so much forceful desperation. His dress felt a bit thinner than the other; thin enough for Sam to feel the heat from Steve's skin against his own, but the fabric of the sweater was much softer and rubbed pleasantly against his smooth cheek. He groaned and tilted his head up, allowing Steve better access to his lips, feeling himself harden as Steve rubbed up against him.

"Two weeks to figure this out," Steve moaned as he began pulling at the hem of Sam's shirt, desperate to untuck it from Sam's khakis.

"Yeah." Sam shuddered as Steve's palm found its way beneath his shirt in order to rub against his chest. A thrill spread through him at the prospect of all the things they could do to each other in the near future, how good it would feel to wake up in the morning with Steve curled against him, to kiss him awake and then nuzzle that sweet spot just behind his ears and tease until the kissing turned into something more. "Yeah," he moaned as he moved his free hand down to Steve's ass and gave it a good squeeze, producing a surprised moan from Steve's lipstick coated mouth. "All of it. All of it."

"I wanna be your girl, Sam," Steve whimpered against him. "Tell me I’m your girl." 

"You’re my girl," he huffed. "And I’m your man." Sam pulled away slightly, taking a moment to breathe and bring Steve back to reality for one moment. "Just... just remember that if I do something you don't like, you gotta tell me. If you need me to back off..."

"I understand," Steve panted. His wide blue eyes had gone a bit dark and hazy with lust, but Sam could see the understanding behind him as he gave a slight nod in response. "I trust you."

Steve leaned forward and wrapped Sam in a hug that was a bit too tight, but still pleasant and warm and Sam smiled to find that the smell of spices and wild flowers were still clinging to Steve's skin. "You wanna go back upstairs?"

He was surprised when Steve pulled back a little and shook his head, face flushed and a bit sheepish as he whispered, "I want you right here."

His eyes widened and the pit of his stomach pinged with lust at the idea of pushing Steve onto the grass and pinning him there, making him moan and writhe with pleasure as Sam pushed in slowly, slowly.... It was just too good to be true. "Are you sure? I don't have any..."

"I can take it," Steve assured him. "Please honey. I want my man to take me, right here and now."

Sam smiled and pecked at his lips again. "Sure thing Mrs. Wilson. Your man is ready to do whatever you say."

They moved onto the grass, using Steve's sweater and Sam's vest as makeshift blankets, but this time they kept the wig on along with the dress, so that if anyone were to stumble on them, it would look like Sam was just a man who had gotten too carried away with his wife, instead of something a bit more scandalous.

Steve lay back on top of the pile of clothes, panting and squirming as Sam began running his hands up and down his sturdy claves. He flipped up Steve's skirt and looked underneath just to confirm that he was wearing panties again and chuckled at the sight of the powder blue fabric with white butterflies scattered across its surface. "Oh baby," Sam breathed as he palmed at Steve's cock, feeling it twitch and pulse from his touch. He faintly wondered if Natasha had been the one to get Steve to change into these or if he had been wearing them since stepping out the shower. "Have any more of these?"

"I'll get some," Steve promised, a slight quirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned back on his elbows, spreading his legs to allow Sam better access. "I'll fill a whole suit case with 'em if that's what Mr. Wilson wants."

"Oh, that's what Mr. Wilson wants," Sam teased as he gave Steve's cock a good squeeze. Steve threw his head back and groaned, face screwing up as Sam rubbed his thumb across the thickening bulge. "Lots of panties, cute ones with bows, sexy little things that barely hold it all in..."

"Lingerie, too?" Steve gasped. "Slinky nightgowns, frilled garter belts, sheer corsets?"

Sam groaned at the idea of Steve in lace and silk, his large pecks filling out the cups of a bra and narrow waist caressed with sheer fabric that left little to the imagination. "Oh baby, I don't think we'll be getting outta bed much."

"That's the idea. I want my man all to myself."

Sam chuckled, rubbing his cheek against Steve's thigh. It was bare today, but still smooth from the previous morning's shave and somehow that felt so much better than nylon against his skin. "That's my girl."

"That's right, your girl. And your girl needs her man, right now."

"Not yet," he said, kissing Steve's leg before diving back in beneath the skirt, allowing the fabric to drape across his head and shoulders. Sam kissed at Steve's cock, mouthing at the thick bulge trapped within its silk confines. There was a wet patch growing as the head leaked and Sam took a moment to chuckle before offering it a light nip with his teeth.

"Oh! _Oh_!" Steve cried out, bucking his hips as he shuddered and came hard. His legs were trembling even as Sam kissed at the inside of his thigh, but it didn't take long at all before Steve began to get hard again. Sam slipped out from beneath the blanket of yellow material only to have Steve lean forward and kiss him again, tired but still hungry and openly desperate.

"Bedroom now?" Sam asked when Steve slumped forward and pressed his forehead against Sam's shoulder.

"No. Here," Steve said firmly. "I told you, I want it here."

Sam hesitated for a moment as he considered the situation. Going in dry would be rough on Steve, but Sam would be lying if he said he wasn't just as desperate, his own cock strained against his briefs. "Okay," Sam said as he tugged Steve's panties off and spread his legs further apart. "Okay. Let's just get you ready."

He took his time preparing Steve, keeping the pace almost maddeningly slow. Steve's whole face was flushed, gasping not in discomfort but need as he bucked against Sam's touch. "Please, honey. Now. Now!"

Sam nodded as he slowly slipped his fingers out and carefully slid himself in and suddenly they were there, back in the same place they had been last night and it still felt good and right and... "Damn," Sam breathed as Steve tightened around him. "Damn."

They shifted on the grass, Sam leaning back on his haunches and Steve straightening up until he was back in Sam's lap, riding him. Steve moaned and wrapped one arm around Sam's back for balance and slipped the other under the folds of his skirt in order to jerk himself as Sam thrust inside him. "Gonna get used to this," Sam said as he angled his hips and kept his pace slow and steady just likehe wanted. He could tell from the pinched look on Steve's face that it was frustrating, but he kept quiet, worrying his lower lip as he held onto Sam and rode along. "Two weeks of this. Just this."

Steve grunted and came again, slumping against Sam as he continued to push in and out again and again and in no time at all Steve was right back in the game. They dissolved into nothing but incoherent babble after that, Steve only able to muster a steady stream of huffs as Sam grunted and pushed into him. They both hit the final surge together, moaning and shaking and pouring out sweat before collapsing against the base of the stone bench.

"So good," Steve moaned once he regained his ability to speak. He sighed, content and satisfied as he pressed a soft, sleepy kiss to Sam's cheek. "Thank you."

"More where that came from, baby," he chuckled as he rubbed at Steve's back. "I guess dinner's back on, huh?"

Steve nodded. "Definitely. And you're going to hold the doors open for me and pull out my chair and everything."

"You don't even have to tell me, Mrs. Wilson," he grinned. "And since we're still husband and wife if I wanna do this-" He tilted his head, nudging at Steve in order to press his lips flush against his mouth and plant him with a long lazy kiss. "-I don't have to worry about getting any funny looks."

"Sam," Steve breathed his eyes so damn big and doe like as he stared down at him and for one horrifying moment Sam feared that he would pull back, say he couldn't do it and call the whole thing off. His heart sank and rose in one quick moment when Steve smiled sleepily and pressed his face into the crook of Sam's throat. "I don't think I could ever thank you enough for this."

\--

They walked back to the hotel tired, sweat soaked, and covered in grass stains, but too satisfied to give a second thought to the looks the other patrons were shooting their way. (Although Sam did take a moment to glare over at the concierge and grin smugly as he wrapped a possessive arm around Steve’s shoulder.)

When they made it back to their room neither was surprised to find Natasha sitting on the bed waiting for them. She lifted her gaze from her smartphone and pinned them a bemused smirk as she took in the sight of their rumpled hair and stained clothes.

"You boys have a nice talk?" Natasha grinned, all smug and satisfied as her well trained eyes soaked in every last detail.

Sam grinned as Steve burned beet red before muttering something under his breath and heading over to the bathroom to freshen up. The door was already closed behind them, but Sam turned around to lock it before walking over to lean against the edge of the desk across from Natasha. "We’re gonna need the room for another night," Sam announced as he pulled his glasses off and put them down beside the still empty breakfast tray. "And new train tickets. You still feel up to playing travel agent?"

"Not a problem," Natasha shrugged, pulling out her phone and tapping out a few commands on the screen. "I sort of figured you would say that, so you’re all set up for tonight. When do you need the tickets for?"

Sam considered this for a moment, figuring that they could probably squeeze in a few rounds before checking out the next morning and if the hedge maze was still closed off the next day, rolling around in the garden was still a possibility. "Tomorrow, maybe around two.”

Natasha hummed, eyes still trained on the screen as she listened. “Destination?”

“Paris.”

She gave out a quick little chuckle at that, glancing up at Sam with a small condescending smirk. “Typical honeymoon location. Cute. Any plans?”

“No details, remember?”

“Just wondering,” Natasha said with a shrug of her shoulders that was surprisingly indifferent. “Thought it might be help for me to get an idea of what you had in mind. That way I could potentially have some supplies set up ahead of time.”

That was enough to get his interest peeked and even if Sam knew he was playing into Natasha’s hand, he decided to go along anyway. “Actually, there are a few things we had in mind.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember way way back when I said there would probably be a part 3? Well... here it is. This chapter went through many, many revisions before ending up like this and honestly I was not planning to make it nearly so long, but... it just happened. This part is heavily influenced by Age of Ultron so there are some spoilers for those who haven't seen it yet.

"Did I tell you Clint lives on a farm?" Steve said for maybe the hundredth time as he stabbed at his potato wedges with the prong of his fork. The spuds were starting to look more mashed then wedged at this point, but Sam wasn't about to say anything about Steve's eating methods. "An actual farm upstate with chickens and everything."

"Never understood why New York was the only state in the union to have an 'upstate,'" Sam mused as he pushed around the diced vegetables into their own corner pocket of the plate. He was getting sick of commissary food, among other things, and try as he might Sam couldn't keep the note of irritation out of his tone. "Why doesn't anyone else have that luxury?"

"Well, it's probably because we're the best and everyone knows it," Steve said confidently as he carved a piece of crumbling meatloaf and stabbed it with the tip of his fork. Sam watched as his expression withered slightly with disappointment as soon as the bit of ground beef was placed between his lips. 

"Yeah, they really put their foot in it tonight," Sam chuckled sympathetically as he eye balled his own plate. "And probably a few tube socks too." 

Steve shook his head and guzzled a full cup of water in order to wash away the worst of the flavor. The real shame was that given Steve's enhanced metabolism he would need to eat four times as much of the mediocre food as anyone else would and have that rock of protein sit in his stomach until the next bland meal was served up. Sam sighed, shaking his head in sympathy at the thought and the fact that it felt like ages since their last decent meal.

"You know what that farm reminded me of?" Steve asked his voice low and conspiring as he leaned in close to Sam's side of the table. Under the harsh glow of the florescent lights it was easy to make out the faint blush creeping along Steve's cheeks and Sam's smile was more for that than the large hand that had found its way onto his lap. "That cozy little place in the country where the Wilsons spent the first few nights of their honeymoon."

His smile was soon wide enough to split his face in two at the mention of their little trip around Europe. They had moved around the continent just as Natasha had suggested, but there hadn't been much sightseeing involved as Sam and Steve spent the majority of their time going from hotel to hotel exploring new ways to make each other moan and scream. Sam still remembered how good it felt to wake up in a tangle of sheets, his bare skin warmed by the sun's rays creeping in through the window and Steve's body pressed flushed against his side. He felt foolish at being nostalgic for those days, because it had barely been a year ago. 

Their two week honeymoon had been cut down to just five days because the real world had reared its head at the most inconvenient time, as it often did, and in no time at all they were back to searching for Barnes and hunting down Hydra. Yet even that was short lived since Steve was called away to hit the road with his Avengers buddies and Sam was left to continue the manhunt on his own. 

The best thing to come out of the situation was that even between the furious marathon of fucking around Europe the two had found enough time to actually talk and work things out. Or more accurately, Sam had pumped the breaks one night and forced Steve to sit down with him and have an honest heart to heart so they could sort out where to go from there. They existed now as an "us" and a "we" even if Steve was still too shy at times to be truly open with his affections, but everyone knew they were together which made things a bit easier.

What didn't make things easier was their current living situation, being housed at the New Avengers facility part time and having to share space in the cold living quarters with the rest of the team. They had their own room they could shut the door and go back to at night, but the room was little more than a shoe box with paper thin walls. Even if they were bold enough to actually do anything, the constant drills and exercises that Steve and Natasha had them running left Sam too tired and sore to do more than collapse face first into the thread bare mattress every night.

Sam pushed those thoughts away as he dropped his hand down on top of Steve's, nudging his fingers until their hands were pressed palm to palm with their fingers twined together. "Yeah, that was a nice little place," Sam agreed warmly, keeping his tone low and secretive. "And that restaurant down the road had some great food."

"Really? All I can remember was the bathroom," Steve joked, the blush spreading down to his neck and Sam felt his eyebrows arch at the comment. 

He remembered playing footsie under the table, teasing at Steve until neither of them could take it anymore. They ducked into the men's room round the back of the restaurant, because neither could wait to get back to the hotel, and locked the door to the little washroom that was hardly more than a broom closet. Sam felt his own face flush as he recalled lifting Steve up on the sink, shoving his skirt up to his hips and pushing in deep. Steve had just managed to muffle his cries by burying his face against Sam's shoulders, his teeth digging in through the fabric of his jacket with every thrust.

"Yeah," Sam said, swallowing thickly at those memories. "The Wilsons need to dine out more often."

"Mrs. Wilson might like that," Steve said, his tone turning a bit somber as he leaned back in his seat, his hold on Sam's hand turning a bit slack. "Too bad Mr. Wilson doesn't seem to have enough energy to show her a good time."

"Hey, Mr. Wilson has a huge workload to manage," Sam shot back, growing a bit defensive even if they were still playing their game. "Not everyone can bounce back after a hard day. Mr. Wilson's not as young as he used to be."

"I know," Steve sighed apologetically as he offered Sam's fingers a light squeeze. "I guess... Mrs. Wilson just wasn't ready to admit that the honeymoon was over."

The words struck Sam like a kick to the side and he actually found his mouth falling open a touch at the implication. "Steve," Sam began softly, the pad of his thumb brushing gently against the roughed patch of skin along Steve's hand. The gesture was enough to cause a small smile to curl at the corner of Steve's lips, but Sam needed more than that, needed Steve to see that there was still passion and fire between them, because there was no way they could have burned out this quickly.

"What are you two love birds chirping about?" Natasha asked as she pulled out a chair beside Sam and deposited herself gracelessly in the plastic seat.

"Farming," Steve blurted out thoughtlessly, dropping Sam's hand as if the touch had burned him as he made to sit that much straighter in his seat. The show of distance was more than unnecessary since Natasha knew better than anyone what they were having helped to plant the seed from the start. Yet Steve was still new at being open with his feelings and even if Sam wasn't in to the whole hiding in plain sight thing with his relationships, he knew better than to push someone who wasn't ready to be exposed.

Sam smiled and gave Steve's shoulder a firm claps of his hand as Natasha raised a brow at the odd comment. "He's still hung up on the whole farm thing with Hawkeye."

Steve offered Sam a small grin in a silent show of thanks. "Well, you gotta admit it's kind of a shock. I mean, who would have guessed? The guy doesn't exactly seem the type."

"Well, we can't all be sophisticated urbanites like you Rogers," Natasha said in her dry yet playful tone as she leered at their plates. Her mouth twisted ever so slightly at the sight of anemic vegetables accompanying gray crumbling meat. "Meatloaf again? Didn't they serve that Monday?"

"Probably Monday's leftovers," Sam grumbled as he went back to his task of stabbing little cubes of carrots and pebbles of green beans onto the prongs of his fork before pulling apart another piece of meat. He thought of a fat juicy burger or a fresh grilled steak in an attempt to mentally block out the flavor as he took another bite, but found his stomach practically sighing in defeat.

"Actually, I meant I didn't really see him as the family type," Steve corrected lightly as he once again began to mash at his potato wedges. "I mean, this line of work and all... How's the baby doing, by the way?"

Natasha pulled out her phone from her pocket, leaning back in her seat as she began tapping at the screen. "Still fat, still bald," Natasha informed them blandly as she continued to tap and swipe. "Although he's starting to look more babyish and less like a tiny grandpa."

She turned the screen of the phone in their direction, the display engulfed by the image of a tiny baby that was all cute rolls and steady flowing drool as he lay on his back, bare save for the diaper and little purple and blue striped socks clinging to his feet. Steve's smile was gentle and warm as he gazed at the image while Sam merely leaned back and chuckled softly at the sight of the little wisps of blond hair clinging to the baby's otherwise smooth scalp.

"Still looks a little bit like a tiny grandpa if you ask me," Sam joked lightly, tapping his fork against the rim of his plate. "Bald babies always do. Now Wilson babies are never born bald. We always come into the world with a full head of hair."

"There's nothing wrong with bald babies," Steve put in, a comment that earned him a small smirk of approval from Natasha. "They're still cute even without the hair."

"I'm just sayin'," Sam said, holding his hands aloft in the air.

His words were cut off by the sound of metal legs scraping against tile as Col. Rhodes pulled out a chair at the far end of the table. He was holding another tray of meatloaf and mixed vegetables in his hands and an uncertain look on his face as he slipped into the seat directly across from Sam. "So what do you think killed the cat that went into this?" Rhodes asked skeptically. "Because I doubt it was a quick or painless death."

"I'm not entirely certain it is meat, Sir," Sam shot back, disheartened to find that more than half of his plate was still covered by his dinner. "It might be some sort of lab experiment they're testing out on us."

Steve chuckled heartily at Sam's joke. "Maybe we should have gone with the salad?" he ventured just as Wanda came to sit down beside Natasha. 

Vision was following besides her, sitting down stiff and straight backed. There was no plate in front of him, food entirely unnecessary for the android, but Sam suspected he came along to their meal time gathering in an attempt to be social, even if he never offered much in terms of verbal interaction.

Wanda held a plate of greens in her own tray, the vegetables looking withered and spongy and covered with a dressing that looked as if it were mostly oil. Wanda registered their looks of apprehension and distaste at the sight of her food and responded to them with an indifferent sort of shrug. "I've had worse," she muttered in a tone that made it very clear she had also eaten better.

\--

"I can't believe he said the honeymoon is over," Sam grumbled as he stuffed the last of his whites into the dryer with a bit too much force. It took a fair amount of restraint for him to keep from slamming the door after throwing a couple of the static sheets in with the load. "How can the honeymoon be over? We've been together less than a year."

Natasha gave a slight shrug of her shoulders at the remark, her eyes trained on the glowing screen of her phone as her legs kicked lazily in the air, the heel of her boot producing a light thud as it beat steadily against the dryer next to Sam's machine. The communal laundry room was just another aspect of the facility that Sam was getting sick of. Even if everything was still new and state of the art, Sam still missed the simple luxury of having his own washer and dryer and knowing exactly what was in it last. He missed not having to wash his clothes around someone else's schedule or worry about his favorite detergent running out before he got to it if left unattended.

"Well, what can you expect when you guys came together so hot and heavy to begin with?" Natasha noted wearily as her eyes studied the display carefully before she tapped on the screen and moved on to the next image. 

"I don't want this to burn out," Sam sighed as he grabbed the basket loaded with his freshly dried colored clothes and moved over to the metal table in the middle of the concrete walled basement. The lights were too dim to see if the stains he had been aiming for had come out and the air smelled oddly musty for something so new. He frowned and yanked at a green and blue plaid button down shirt and began to fold it against the cold metal. "I doubt Steve wants it to either."

There was a light little bump from behind him that let Sam know that Natasha had slid off of the dryer, the sound of her booted feet making light scuffs against the gritty ground only because she allowed them to as she made her way over to the metal table. He watched out of the corner of his eyes as she pressed her back against the table, elbows resting on top of shiny metal and flame red hair framing a face that was genuine in its concern. "Hey, you guys are gonna make it," Natasha assured him, her voice firm and confident as she spoke. "You're just in a bit of a rut. It's natural given the circumstances."

Sam looked up and frowned at the dingy lights and the rows of washers and dryers that were only still and vacant because they were less than an hour away from lights out. Even if there wasn't as much restriction or as many people barking orders in his ear, this whole set up was too similar to boot camp for his liking and Sam was openly counting the days when this training period was over so he could head home.

Yet there in lay the problem. Even if Steve knew he was more than welcome in Sam's bed he still held a reluctance to make himself a permanent presence in Sam's home. Before all this had started Steve had been living in the guest room, keeping everything impersonal and neutral during his stay. When they hit the road it was all motels and temporary spaces. Now they were here and Sam was starting to think that when he went back to DC Steve would probably find some flimsy excuse to stay behind.

"Maybe we're not burning out," Sam grumbled as he pushed the neatly folded shirt aside in order to work on another. "Maybe he's cooling things off."

\--

Sam knew the text was suspicious from the start, because there was no logical Avengers related reason for him to drive into town alone to scout out a location for intell on the middle of a Wednesday night, but Sam would be lying if he said he hadn't been dying for any excuse, even a lame one to hit the road. He eagerly punched the address Natasha had texted him into his phone's GPS and made the two hour drive without hesitation. His interest was mildly peeked when the automated voice announced that he had arrived at his destination and found himself pulling up in front of a hotel.

It was one of the big chain hotels with no special features and a generic lobby that was clean and welcoming with friendly staffers who smiled at him briefly before looking back down at the computer screens hidden behind the counter. Despite the fact that it was nine at night the smell of fresh brewed coffee and pastries hit his nostrils and Sam's stomach growled at the thought of how long it had been since he had eaten anything with actual flavor to it.

The phone in his back pocket began to buzz in that instance and when Sam fished it out and turned on the display screen he found himself greeted by a new message from Natasha. He opened the text to find the words **_Fourth floor. Room 415._** popping up in front of his eyes. He had a feeling he knew exactly where all this was going, because Steve had been suspiciously absent upon Sam receiving his "assignment" and even when he texted him to let Steve knew he was stepping out no reply had come in. 

Still Sam shook his head and stuffed his phone into his pocket, walking towards the elevator bank down the hall and riding up to the fourth floor in relative silence. The door slid open with a soft ding when he reached his destination and Sam counted the doors lazily as he made his way to room 415. There was already a "Do Not Disturb" sign hanging on the knob, but Sam's phone vibrated again with a new message on the display.

**_Key by the window sill._**

Sam looked to his left and saw the closed over curtains obscuring the hallway window, but pushed them aside to find a little keycard shaped envelope pressed up against the glass waiting for him. He grabbed the envelope and lifted the flap to find not only the card, but the words "Have fun ;-)" written out above the wifi password.

Again he shook his head as he moved back to the door and slid the card into the slot. He waited for the chime and the light on the lock to turn green before gently twisting the knob and pushing his way inside. The air was rich with so many fragrances, flowers and spice hitting him in a pleasant gust of air. There was gentle music drifting towards him and dim lights casting a more inviting blanket around the generic hotel set up. Sam stepped in, closing the door behind him before walking deeper into the sleeping area.

His eyes instantly fell upon Steve, lying sprawled out on the bed wearing satin lingerie and not much else. He watched as Steve shifted, his stocking clad legs catching the dim light as they moved across the top of the bed spread and a playful smile spread across his painted lips. "Hi honey," Steve all but purred, his face softened by makeup and blue eyes framed with thick mascara coated lashes. He beckoned Sam closer with a crook of his finger and for a moment Sam found himself too stunned to comply.

A small huff of a laugh barely managed to escape him as Sam shook his head and took a step closer. He had been expecting as much, but somehow the sight of Steve all dolled up, sprawled out and waiting for him was just so remorsefully foreign now that actually gazing upon it was still enough to give him pause. "Baby," Sam breathed, instantly shrugging out of his jacket, before a moment of logic fell over him and he went back in order to bolt the door before heading back to Steve's bedside. Those sharp blue eyes seemed to follow him, drinking in Sam's every move with a kind of hunger that had been absent for far too long. He grinned down at Steve as he walked up to the bed, placing one knee against the mattress that was most certainly a marshmallow to the touch. "I thought you said the honeymoon was over," he teased smoothly as he fumbled about the process of unbuttoning his shirt.

Steve chuckled as he sat up right, lifting himself until he was kneeling on the mattress and eye to eye with Sam. That familiar honey wig was framing his face, unnecessary, but a vital part of the game in Steve's mind and Sam would not debate him on that point. He stilled as Steve's strong hands brushed his own aside with such gentle force, his touch electric as the tips of his fingers ran across Sam's chest. "Yeah," Steve breathed, his red lips so damn full and tempting. "Yeah, I did, but that doesn't mean there isn't more to celebrate."

Sam smirked as he allowed Steve to undress him, undoing one button at a time at an almost agonizing pace. "And what are we celebrating tonight, Mrs. Wilson?"

He watched as Steve's face all but lit up at the name and even if he weren't looking in his eyes Sam knew his baby blues had gotten a touch darker from it. "Our anniversary," Steve answered coyly as he finally finished with Sam's shirt, pushing the material teasingly off his broad shoulders before looking up in order to let the tip of his nose brush against Sam's. "I know it's a bit early, but I think we're over due for some alone time."

Sam hummed as Steve began tugging gently at his belt and suddenly it was just too much to hold off on kissing him. He touched their lips together, gently at first, but putting in a bit more force as he brushed his tongue across Steve's coated lips. "You're damn right about that, baby," Sam breathed between little nips and touches. "And how does my girl plan on spending our night?"

Steve chuckled and leaned back against the bed, his hands wrapping around Sam's back in order to guide him in. He went down easily enough, unwilling to allow anymore space between their bodies. The material of Steve's chemise was soft, but flimsy, the details of each toned muscle easily felt beneath the navy blue satin. "Well, I ordered us a couple of steaks for dinner," Steve told him, his lips curling sweetly at the words. "And some beer to wash it down." He pressed a quick kiss to the tip of Sam's nose. "I know what my man likes."

"Oh you do," Sam groaned as he ran his left hand against Steve's thigh, sturdy beneath the shiny nylon. He was flat against the mattress by now, the strands of blonde hair spilling out behind him as Steve spread his legs in order to accommodate Sam's presence. He could feel Steve's arousal as keenly as his own and it made his whole body flush. "You really do."

"But if you want to skip dinner..."

"And go straight to dessert?" Sam teased as he caressed Steve's thigh with the pad of his thumb.

He was rewarded with a soft grin as Steve hooked his leg onto Sam's hip, the gesture causing his loosened slacks to slide that much further down his waist. "So now I'm your dessert?"

"Well you do look good enough to eat."

Steve tilted his head up and pressed their lips together, his right hand finding its way to the back of Sam's head in order to hold him in place. He missed this side of Steve: the desperate touches, the forceful hunger, the need to be as close to one another as possible had all seemed to have faded away over these last few weeks. Now it was back in full force and between his pants still clinging to his hips and the tight under shirt covering his chest and stomach there was just too much clothes between them.

"How do you wanna do this baby?" Sam breathed, not wanting to part, but pulling away just enough to speak. He could still feel the brush of Steve's nose and the warmth of his lips against his face. "How do you want your man to take care of you?"

Steve gave a shudder of anticipation his left hand caressing the too thick fabric of Sam's undershirt as his powerful leg pulled Sam in closer, allowing their equally trapped arousal to brush together. "The restaurant in France," Steve gasped as Sam ran the tip of his tongue along the sharp line of Steve's jaw. "Just like that. Fuck me up against the wall."

Sam chuckled, lowering his head until their foreheads were touching. Even with his eyes closed he could somehow feel the smile on Steve's face and the thrill of anticipation that came with it. "Okay baby," Sam laughed with a soft huff as he dropped a quick kiss to Steve's lips. "I'll give you what you need."

He made quick work of peeling off the rest of his clothes, undershirt yanked recklessly overhead as his pants were forcefully pushed down his hips before they were aggressively kicked across the room along with his shoes and socks. Steve grinned toothily at him and Sam wasn't certain if he were amused by the display or how obviously eager Sam seemed. Sam had a feeling it was the latter given the way his arousal was tenting in the front of his boxers and how Steve's eyes seemed to drift towards it.

"Up against the wall," Sam instructed and watched as Steve slid off of the smooth fabric of the rumpled bedding and over to the bureau on the opposite end of the room. Sam wished he could have been able to lift Steve properly, to support his weight with his own two hands without the need of some form of support since it would help to maintain the illusion that Steve was his sweet wife, but even with all the drills they had been running these last few days Sam still doubted he would be able to get by completely on his own strength. 

Steve didn't seem to mind, however, as he kept batting his ridiculous lashes and smiling coyly over at Sam, the fabric of his chemise caressing his sturdy thighs while the flimsy little strap slipped from his broad shoulder. "I'm ready for you, honey," Steve all but purred, beckoning Sam closer as he shifted against the smooth surface of the bureau. "Don't keep me waiting."

"Course not," Sam grinned as he eased himself closer, slipping easily between sturdy legs that seemed to instinctively coil themselves around him. The nylons felt good around his waist, sliding up and down with an oddly natural ease. "What kind of husband would I be to let all this go to waste?"

Steve groaned and wrapped his arms around Sam's shoulders, bringing their bodies in closer. The material of the nightgown was cool to the touch and slid against Sam’s skin as their bodies pressed together. The smoothness of the satin felt good against his bare chest and Sam felt himself shudder at the mixture of the sensation and the smell of Steve’s perfume filling his nostrils. 

"Top drawer," Steve whispered huskily before attaching his mouth to the shell of Sam's ear and nibbling pleasantly. 

Sam felt his skin explode with goose bumps, his brain scrambling a bit at the feel of sharp teeth scraping across his skin and the occasional flick of the tip of a tongue caressing him. With one hand resting on Steve's hip, he used his free hand to rummage through the top drawer as instructed and found his fingers instantly greeted by the smooth surface of a bottle of lube and brush against a box of condoms. He wasn't sure if it was Natasha or Steve who had planted that particular treat, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. 

"Do me rough," Steve all but begged, moving from Sam's ear over to his neck. "Don't go gentle. Fuck me like you mean it."

"If that's what my girl wants," he relented as he tugged eagerly at the satin panties that felt more obstructive than usual. Steve scooted closer, his rear barely balancing on the wood of the desk as Sam stuck his slick finger inside, the sudden gesture producing a shocked gasp and causing Steve's hold on him to tighten. He added another finger sooner than he would have liked, because Steve wanted hard and Sam wanted fast and he had a feeling they both just needed this now. The soft "please" that tumbled out of Steve's mouth as his hands caressed Sam's back in encouraging patterns seemed to confirm that idea and Sam was quick to replace his hand, sliding in deep with barely held restraint.

A sharp " _oh _" hit the air as Steve's head fell back and his thighs clamped down on Sam's waist. "You okay?" Sam asked instinctively, because even knowing that Steve was big and tough wasn't enough at times, because anyone could be hurt by wreck less acts and Sam didn't want to be wreck less with Steve. "You good?"__

__"So good," Steve huffed with a sloppy kiss to Sam's cheek. "Please..."_ _

__"It's okay, baby," Sam soothed, steadying his grip on Steve's waist and rocking slow and steady into him. "I've got you. Your man's got you."_ _

__Steve's eyes were screwed shut, his mouth parted into an almost perfect "o" as Sam continued to slide into him, his hips pushing in and snapping back with enough force to make Steve's body jerk in response. A steady stream of panting breathes poured from Steve's mouth and Sam didn't understand why they weren't doing this more, why they weren't taking advantage when it still felt so good and so right to be this way._ _

__His skin felt bright and tingly as he tightened his hold, made sure his grip was firm and secure, before carefully, but forcefully maneuvering Steve so that he was all but lifted off of the edge of the desk and pressed flush against the wall. Steve responded with a startled grunt as they wobbled for a bit, one hand flying out to brace their weight against the desk while the other held onto Sam, solid and steady. Sam had a feeling that his back would be screaming at him come morning, but he didn't care. He wanted this, wanted to take Steve just like he had asked, wanted to fuck him good and rough because that's what they both needed._ _

__"Jesus, honey!" Steve cried out, his grip tightening pointedly on the edge of the desk as his other hand clenched into a fist behind Sam's back. The sound of wood splintering greeted Sam's ears as the hand behind him shook with need._ _

__Sam smiled and kissed at Steve's collar, running his teeth along his flushed skin. He could feel Steve's erection trapped between them, his cock rock hard and rubbing against Sam's bare belly and the satin hem of the chemise. He wanted so badly to grab it, to stroke Steve and help him reach his climax, but his hands were too full and strained as it was so he could only use his mouth and hope for the best._ _

__"Come on Mrs. Wilson," Sam muttered encouraging. He gave a sharp thrust and hit the spot deep inside, making Steve shudder and tighten around him. "Let go for me. C'mon."_ _

__Steve gave a shout as the warm heat of his come spread between them and Sam just kept fucking him through it, thrusting even as Steve shuddered from the last bit of his release and then Sam was right behind him, groaning and digging his fingers in deep against Steve's hips, deep enough to leave bruises even on his skin._ _

__Sweat was pouring out from every inch of him as Sam pulled out as careful and slow as his body would allow. With a good deal of effort on Sam's part they moved away from the wall and the ruined desk that had been shaken until most of the pens and papers and even the lamp had gone scattering off it and over towards the bed . Sam collapsed against the wrinkled sheets feeling boneless and hot and good._ _

__He could feel Steve's grin against his shoulder as he pressed sloppy kisses onto Sam's skin. Sam was ready for a nice long nap, but he could tell right away that Steve was back in the game, his turnaround time absolutely ridiculous thanks to the serum. "Give me five minutes, baby," Sam laughed weakly, half heartedly waving Steve off. "Just… five minutes."_ _

__Steve relented with a sheepish little chuckle, ducking into the bathroom for just a minute to grab a cloth and clean them both off. He must have counted the time down to the last second, because Sam felt like he had just closed his eyes for a minute before Steve was rubbed up against him again, pressing desperate lingering kisses along his jaw and rubbing his broad hands against Sam's chest._ _

__"Sam," Steve whispered in a voice that was low and hungry as he rubbed the bridge of his nose along the shell of Sam's ear. "Please… let me ride you?"_ _

__"Christ Steve!" Sam chuckled, but he would be lying if he said that question wasn't enough to get his blood churning. Steve must have noticed, of course he did, because he was crawling over and straddling Sam's lap before he could even form the words. "Condoms?" Sam asked even as his hands gently settled against Steve's narrow hips._ _

__Steve shook his head, flushed and sheepish as he chewed his lower lip. "Can we…? I just… I wanna feel you."_ _

__Another wave spiked through him, making his skin prickle and sending the blood rushing straight to his lap so that he was rock hard once more. "Yeah," Sam huffed, because they were both clean and Steve couldn't catch anything anyway. "Yeah, whatever you want Mrs. Wilson."_ _

__He watched as Steve gave a heavy sigh, his eyes shut tight as he guided himself onto Sam's dick. Sam shuddered at the feel of his tip caressing against Steve's ass, his entrance still open and slick and waiting, but the pace was agonizingly slow and suddenly Sam knew how Steve must have felt when he teased him. "I'm sorry, honey," Steve whispered sounding downright sincere as he continued to ease himself down slowly, slowly onto Sam's cock. They gave out deep, throaty huffs once he was in there, fully inside and Sam felt his hands tighten again onto Steve's narrow waist. "I'm sorry. I could have been a better wife."_ _

__Sam chuckled, the sound strained and a bit hoarse in his own ears as he brushed his thumb along Steve's hip bone. "You kidding me? Doin' all this for me? You're a damn good wife, baby."_ _

__"I coulda been better," Steve groaned as he raised himself up, inch by agonizing inch, before gently settling himself down again. "You deserve better."_ _

__Sam didn't like where this was going, didn't like the idea of Steve potentially having a breakdown in his lap. He gave his side a pointed squeeze, his touch firm enough to get Steve to look directly at him, meet his gaze and see that Sam wanted to take a break from the game for a second. "Steve, what's going on," he said in a tone that was as level and serious as he could manage given that his dick was still buried deep inside of the man on top of him. "Seriously, baby, talk to me."_ _

__Steve looked at him for a moment, his blue eyes wet and wavering for just a moment, but it was only a moment. He gave a strained little chuckle and shook his head, before leaning forward to plant a quick kiss to Sam's lip. "Sorry," he whispered with a light laugh. "Sorry. Just getting carried away."_ _

__"Okay," Sam said reluctantly as he gave his side a quick pet. "You still green?"_ _

__Steve nodded as he began to rock with renewed vigor. "Yeah, I'm green."_ _

__Sam grunted at the sudden hitch in the pace, feeling Steve bop up and down against him with enough force to knock him for a loop. He let out a quick puff of air as he looked up at Steve, brow furrowed in concentration, teeth worrying his lower lip, and sweat beading against his flushed face. "Steve," Sam gasped, his train of thought sent careening away at the sudden knock that cut through the air._ _

__Steve stiffened above him, his eyes snapping open as he turned to look towards the main door as if it had betrayed him. "I forgot about the room service," he sighed, shoulders slumping in a mixture of frustration and disappointment._ _

__He couldn't help but to laugh at that, because this all felt like something out of bad porn, only Sam knew there wasn't a chance in hell they would be inviting the room service guy to join them. "Well I guess we can't keep him waiting," he chuckled, offering Steve's side a good pat only to have Steve respond by clenching down on him._ _

__"The hell I can't," Steve said as he continued to work himself over on Sam's cock._ _

__Sam huffed, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a grunt as he tightened his grip. "Damn baby," he breathed as Steve rode him, clenching and sliding against his cock. His head was swimming, skin practically on fire, and the only sound churning in his ears was the thumping of his heart and the springs creaking beneath them. He distantly wondered if they could be heard out in the hall, but quickly remembered that he didn't care. " _Damn_."_ _

__"Come on Sam, say it," Steve panted, his voice desperate and tight as his thick palms spread out against Sam's chest, everything about his touch wanting more. "Say it!"_ _

__"You're my girl!" Sam groaned as he grabbed Steve's cock with his right hand and gave it a good stroke. "My girl."_ _

__Steve came with a sharp cry, his face burning red and eyes clenched tight and he shuddered above him, clenching down so tight that Sam nearly saw stars shooting in front of his eyes. Sam grunted along with his own release, his hips thrusting into Steve as he collapsed on to him, his head pressed against Sam's shoulder as he laid bell first on the bed. For a good moment they laid there feeling boneless and tingling and swapping lazy kisses and sleepy touches._ _

__They each gave out a deep grunt as another knock greeted their ears, more insistent and heavy and really Sam couldn't blame the poor room service guy for getting impatient even if he was a little frustrated that the stranger hadn't taken their previous lack of a response as a hint. "I'll get the door," Sam volunteered as he reluctantly detached himself from the nice little nest of mashed pillows and rumpled sheets they had created on the bed. He offered Steve's shoulder a quick kiss before pulling himself away completely._ _

__Steve let out a soft little huff of a laugh in response as he crawled off of the bed himself. "Yeah, can't have anybody seeing me like this," he chuckled as he stood and allowed the soft material of the chemise to unfold around him. The wig was barely holding on to its place on his head and a good amount of the makeup he was wearing and been smeared over the course of the past few minutes. Steve really was quite a sight like this, one that Sam didn't exactly feel up to sharing and if that damn attendant wasn't banging on their door then he would have gladly pulled them both back down for a third round. Instead he found himself settling for the sight of a sheepish grin as Steve tugged his panties back on before pulling at the hem of his skirt and heading toward the bathroom. "I'll go freshen up. There's a robe in the closet."_ _

__Sam nodded to himself as he tucked himself into his boxers and shuffled his way over to the closet positioned almost awkwardly beside the front door as Steve disappeared into the bathroom. Wrapping the fluffy white terrycloth material around his waist, Sam was suddenly acutely aware of the exact state the room was in. Used condoms in the trash, lobe sitting on the bedside table, bed completely torn apart, and everything that had been placed on the desk scattered to the floor without a thought. His face was flushed as he reached for the door, mindful of the strong sent of sex that had filled the air, and opened it just wide enough to peek out into the hall to see the hotel attendant with the dinner cart placed beside him._ _

__He watched as the guy's expression suddenly shifted from bored to a touch embarrassed at the sight of Sam, likely already guessing from his flushed features and bathrobe clad body exactly what he had been doing that had kept him too preoccupied to answer the door. "I, um, I have the steak dinners you ordered, sir," the room service guy explained, his eyes darting towards the dinner cart and the door knob and the ugly pattern of the carpet, anywhere other than Sam's face._ _

__"Uh, thanks," Sam grinned awkwardly as he opened the door a little wider in order to accommodate the cart. "I can bring those in," he offered when he saw the guy begin to steer the cart in his direction._ _

__The attendant flashed him a grateful smile, one that said he wasn't really supposed to do this but would make the exception given the circumstances. "You can leave it in the hall when you're done," he instructed, already taking a slight step towards the elevator bank before Sam could even manage a nod._ _

__Sam offered the guy another quick "thanks" before maneuvering the stiff wheeled cart inside through the narrow little hall and into the main part of the room. The smell of cooked meat instantly hit his nose and Sam couldn't resist the urge to lift one of the domed trays in order to catch a peek of what was waiting underneath. He did a small dance of joy at the sight of a nicely seared flank steak waiting for him beside two beautiful mounds of mashed potatoes smothered in mushroom gravy and joined by lovely green stalks of seasoned asparagus that had been lovingly sprinkled with bits of diced bacon. Beside the domes were the beers Steve had mentioned, waiting chilled in a bucket of ice and sweating nicely. Sam knew good and well that hotel food was never the greatest, but given the way he had been eating lately it would be a nice change of pace._ _

__He walked quickly back to the front door in order to push it close and slide the lock back into place before stepping over to the bathroom in order to get Steve. "Hey baby, food's here," Sam said as he pushed the door open._ _

__The thought of knocking had never even occurred to him, because Sam's mind was too busy swirling around thoughts of shoving as much steak into his mouth in the next two minutes as humanly possible, yet Sam was soon kicking himself for not even considering waiting when he saw Steve sitting hunched over on the toilet seat, his eyes reddened and puffy as streaks of tears burned tracks down his cheeks. His heart dropped as he carefully took in the image before him. The wig had been tossed in the trash, the honey strands spilling out over the sides as if the bin were about to overflow and the makeup had been removed messily, and no doubt roughly, from Steve's reddened face._ _

__"You okay?" Sam asked gently, knowing in the pit of his stomach that Steve clearly wasn't._ _

__Steve didn't bother to glance over in Sam's direction, but he did begin to roughly wipe the tears away from his cheeks in response to his question. "Yeah," he said quickly, his face still tilted downward and a weak smile curling the corners of his lips. "The mascara's just bothering my eyes a bit. I shouldn't have gotten the cheap stuff."_ _

__Sam felt his heart pinch at the sound of the weak little laugh Steve offered him and knew right away that Steve was hurting bad. He said nothing as he stepped inside the cramped little bathroom, taking a seat on the edge of the tub and looking carefully at Steve, silently willing him to meet his gaze. "Steve, baby, it's okay," Sam told him gently as he placed a firm hand down on top of his knee. The material of the nylon was smooth beneath his palm and Steve's whole body felt a bit jittery at his touch._ _

__He waited silently as Steve wrapped his arms around himself in a tight hug that caused his fingers to dig into his biceps. His head was still bowed as his eyes remained downcast and Sam offered him a light squeeze of encouragement. "I'm sorry Sam," Steve all but whispered. "I... this isn't working."_ _

__A frown settled on Sam's features at that comment, but he held back the confused question building on his tongue as he waited for Steve to go on. He watched as Steve blinked a few times, his red rimmed eyes welling as Sam began to feel a knot of tension forming in the pit of his own stomach._ _

__"A few months ago, in South Africa, when we were chasing Ultron I had a dream... or a vision," he explained, his voice hesitant and watery as he spoke. "In my dream I came home to Peggy after the war and... and it was terrible. It wasn't how I had imagined it." Steve's face twisted, his eyes screwed shut, and tears began to burn a new path down his face before gathering at his chin to drip down to his thigh. "I thought... I thought it meant that this wasn't the life for me; that I wasn't meant for a family, a home... but I keep thinking about it. I keep _wanting_ it."_ _

__Sam nodded, understanding slowly dawning on him as little pieces fell into place. Suddenly he understood Steve's obsession with Hawkeye's little place upstate and the sudden reappearance of the whole Mrs. Wilson facade. Sam shifted closer, the terrycloth material of the robe allowing him to nearly glide across the porcelain rim of the tub, and moved his hand from Steve's leg in order to cup his face. Fresh tears greeted his palms almost instantly as Steve leaned into his touch with all the reluctance in the world. "Baby it's okay to want that stuff," Sam reasoned, brushing against Steve's flushed cheek with the pad of his thumb. "It's normal. You're still young, you've got your whole life ahead of you..."_ _

__"No," Steve choked, pulling away and standing awkwardly. His whole body had gone stiff as if he had suddenly taken in their situation, had realized what he was doing and what he was wearing and everything had gone sour. "No, it's not okay. _This_ isn't okay." The bathroom was small, almost too small for the two of them to move around comfortably, and with nowhere else to go Steve merely slumped against the side of the closed door, his head hitting the walls with a light thud. His arms were still wrapped around himself, but the hold had loosened a tad, his grip no longer as fierce as Steve gently rubbed at the small bruises he had created on his own skin. "Sometimes I wish we really were the Wilsons," he sighed more to himself than to Sam. "I wish we could just be together and have everything be... simple."_ _

__The silence that settled on the little room was thick and crushing and Sam could practically hear the skin on the bottom of his feet sticking to the tiled floor. He felt dense, blind, because how had he not seen the signs before? He sighed, scrubbing at his face as he stood from his seat. "So was this supposed to our last hoorah, or something? One last fling before breaking it off?"_ _

__Steve didn't move, didn't lift his head or meet Sam's gaze. He just stayed there, pressed against the wall and silently beating himself up like he always did. "It's like I said, you deserve someone better."_ _

__He placed his hand on Steve's back, his touch tender yet firm as he gently urged Steve to turn and face him. Sam let his hand slide from Steve's back up to his neck, his cheek, cradling the warm, wet skin against his palm and watching as Steve visibly fought the urge to turn into Sam's touch once again. "Look Steve, I love you and I care about you, but if you don't love me-"_ _

__"Of course I love you," Steve cut in suddenly, his voice almost defensive as he finally met Sam's gaze. His eyes were tired and puffy, but steady as they locked onto Sam. "Sam I love everything about you. You're amazing and kind and so smart…"_ _

__"Stop," Sam chided firmly. "Just stop okay? Stop trying to save me from you. I'm okay. I know what I got myself into when this started. You don't need to cut and run just to spare my feelings."_ _

__"It's not about that," Steve sighed, deep and heavy as if Sam were the one being unreasonable. "I already told you, there's no future with me. I can't give you a normal life. Marriage? Kids? I can't _have_ that! I can't be… I can't be anything other than Captain America. That's all I am! That's all I'm ever going to be."_ _

__Sam screwed his eyes shut and took in a long, steady breath. "Steve, I love you, and it's because I love you that I have to tell you that that is the dumbest fucking thing I have ever heard you say."_ _

__"Sam…"_ _

__"Look Steve, you're _more_ than a suit, you're _more_ than a soldier. You're a _person_. You have goals and flaws and that's okay. You can't let some vision that was probably just supposed to screw with your head anyway stop you from having what you want out of life."_ _

__"I can't..."_ _

__Sam leaned in close in order to plant a kiss against Steve's lips. It was soft and gentle and Steve practically melted into it, his knees nearly buckling as the tension evaporated from his body. Sam stiffened in order to compensate for the sudden shift, holding Steve with both hands, fingers slipping easily around the soft material of the chemise and gripping him secure and steady. Steve sighed when they parted, his whole demeanor shaky and wanting and Sam was tempted to kiss him again until he was steady or at the very least less uncertain._ _

__"Hey," Sam breathed, pressing their foreheads together and running his fingers soothingly down Steve's back. "I have dreams too. I think of things a lot... feel like I'm trapped... It happens, baby. It happens to all of us. You just have to be honest with yourself and figure out what you really want."_ _

__He could feel Steve's chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath in and pushed it out through his nose, the air brushing against Sam's bare chest as Steve's hands rested carefully against Sam's hips. "If I'm honest with myself... really honest... then all I want is you. I wanna be with you as Mrs. Wilson or Steve Rogers or Captain America. I just want you, but... But it's been so rough lately," Steve said, backing away just enough for Sam to see the hesitance shining in his baby blues. "You're unhappy, I've noticed it and we haven't been together as much as before. This is the first time we've been really alone in months."_ _

__"I know," Sam sighed. "And I'll be honest, that's my fault too. I've been so burned out from all the training and stressing about our living situation... I _hate_ staying in the facility Steve. I hate it. It's like boot camp all over again. I wanna go home and as soon as this whole training period's over, I'm heading back to DC."_ _

__Steve's eyes widened and his face seemed to pale at the prospect of Sam leaving and Sam was quick to duck in for another kiss before Steve could completely fall apart in his arms. "I'm not saying that I'm gonna quit the team!" Sam assured him. "Just saying that being Falcon twenty-four seven isn't working out for me, and I don't think being Cap 'round the clock is working for you either. When I go home, I want you to come with me. And I don't me sleeping in the spare room either. I mean be with me, one hundred percent."_ _

__"That sounds nice," Steve breathed, a sappy little smile pulling at his lips as his eyes filled to the brim with relief. "Yeah, yeah I want that."_ _

__-_ _

__With everything aired out in the open between them, they suddenly realized how starved they were and went to work setting up for dinner. They pulled the desk away from the wall and over to the foot of the bed, assembling their food and drinks like they were having a regular meal at a real restaurant. Sam hung the robe back in the closet and ate comfortable in his boxer as he sat in the desk chair while Steve sat perched on the edge of the mattress, content to stay in his nightgown and stockings even as he ate his meat and drank his beer straight from the bottle._ _

__If Sam were being objective, he would say that this wasn't exactly the best meal he had ever eaten, because a flank steak was no prime rib and someone's hand had clearly slipped a little bit with the salt on the asparagus. Yet compared to the boiled atrocities his stomach had been subjected to these past few weeks it felt like a feast fit for a king._ _

__"Damn, baby, you really know how to order a meal," Sam teased from between a mouthful of gravy slathered beef. He had found a bottle of Tabasco amongst the food and slapped a generous amount on everything except his napkin while Steve had chuckled at the sight._ _

__"Want some butter for your potatoes?" Steve asked as he unfolded one of the foil wrapped pads._ _

__"Please," he insisted, nudging his plate a bit closer in order to allow Steve to deposit the slightly melted square on top of his mashed potatoes. "I feel a bit bad, you know? Eating this good when the team's back at the base eating reheated gruel?"_ _

__Steve laughed and gathered his asparagus and a bit of diced bacon, _bacon!_ , onto his fork. "Well, according to Natasha this was kinda their idea."_ _

__Sam felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise at that comment, but soon found himself nodding as he considered it a bit. "Well, that makes sense," Sam reasoned as he folded the butter and potatoes together. "Probably figured if Cap got a little action, he wouldn't be such a hard ass during the morning drills."_ _

__"Well I'm sure they weren't expecting all this," Steve chuckled as he nodded down to his nightgown and stocking clad figure. "Am I really that much of a hard ass?"_ _

__"You are probably one of the nastiest DI's I've ever had," Sam joked before scooping a bit of his potatoes onto his fork and pointing it in Steve's direction. "But you are trying to assemble a super team, so I forgive you."_ _

__Steve smiled, batting his lashes sweetly as he leaned over and took the offered bite from Sam's fork. He hummed with a bit too much enthusiasm as he leaned back, slow and seductive, a flicker of tongue peaking out to wipe the remainder of the spuds off of pink lips. "I'm glad to be forgiven."_ _

__Sam chuckled and pulled his fork back in order to slice another piece of steak. Their forks clinked together as a comfortable silence settled on them. He smiled quietly to himself, reminded suddenly of their impromptu honeymoon and all the times they had ordered room service because neither one of them wanted to venture too far from their bed. The rooms had been nicer then and the meals tastier, but Sam was just relieved to be sharing another comfortable silence behind closed doors with Steve again._ _

__"So... kids, huh?" Sam watched with no small amount of glee as Steve froze mid way from cutting a huge hunk of meat from his flank steak in order to blush and duck his head at the question._ _

__"God, I can't believe I told you that," Steve said with a self conscious laugh as he set his knife and fork down. "I haven't even met your folks yet and I go blabbing that I wanna have your babies!"_ _

__"Well, to be fair, you pretty much said you wanted to marry me the first night we were together," Sam pointed out, a broad grin plastered across his face as he took one final bite from his steak. "Besides," he went on, his words muffled by the partly chewed meat, "if we're gonna go for the long haul, then this is something we need to talk about."_ _

__"You're right," Steve relented, his blush spreading from his cheeks straight to the tips of his ears. "Yeah, you're right." He chewed his lips and rubbed his hands against the smooth nylons on his thighs as he gathered his courage. "Do... do you want kids?"_ _

__"I love kids. I'm _amazing_ with kids. Not to brag or nothing, but I'm every little Wilson's favorite uncle."_ _

__Steve chuckled, the pink slowly seeping from his face. "Well I'm sure being a superhero doesn't hurt any."_ _

__"It surely doesn't," Sam joked with no small amount of pride. "How many do you want?"_ _

__"A ton," Steve said honestly. "As many as we could fit under one roof. I wanna live the big Irish family cliche."_ _

__Sam grinned and grabbed the neck of his beer, feeling the coolness of the condensation greet his palm as he swirled the bottle to find that it was only half full. "Well those are some big words. We might have to get a bigger roof since my place is only a two bedroom."_ _

__"It's a starter house," Steve reasoned, a playful smile curling his lips and Sam was glad to see that he was at ease again. "We can expand later on."_ _

__"When baby number one comes along?"_ _

__"Number two," Steve amended, leaning forward to plant a quick kiss to Sam's cheeks. "I love your place. I wanna stay as long as we can."_ _

__"And then you wanna go the whole nine yards? Big house, lots a kids... I bet you want dogs too?"_ _

__He watched as Steve’s grin broadened. "I _love_ dogs."_ _

__Sam chuckled at the genuine enthusiasm shining in Steve's eyes. "Let me guess? Golden retrievers? Labs?"_ _

__"I don't care about breeds." Steve shrugged indifferent yet still giddy over the conversation. "I'll take anything as long as it's big and fluffy."_ _

__"Okay, so we've got dogs, kids, great big house with a big ol’ backyard... anything we're missing?"_ _

__"You're missing the part where I'm your happy little house wife," Steve teased as he leaned over and grabbed the metal armrest on Sam's chair and pulled him closer. The side of the chair hit the bed with a soft thud and Steve pressed their lips together with a soft little hum and suddenly it was Sam’s turn to melt as he parted his lips to greet Steve’s tongue. The hint of perfume was still clinging to his neck, but it was hidden beneath a good layer of sweat that did nothing to dampen Sam’s enthusiasm. "I'll keep our nest clean, cook all your meals, and every night after work I'll take my man into my mouth and suck him dry."_ _

__Sam chuckled, his throat tight as he felt a familiar stir in his lap at the prospect. A thrill ran through him at the little image Steve had painted. He could imagine it, walking through the front door only to be pushed back against the wall, Steve tugging down his pants with a wicked smile pulling at his face before dropping to his knees and slipping Sam's harden cock into his pretty pink lips. "Should I expect the whole pearls and heels picture?"_ _

__A sly little chuckle escaped Steve’s lips as he shifted himself carefully from the bed and onto Sam’s lap. The springs of the chair creaked at their combined weight, but it was a distant thought in his mind as he simply enjoyed the feel of Steve resting on top of him, stain fabric rubbing against his flushed chest and sturdy thighs brushing his own legs. "Throw in a frilled apron with nothing underneath and you’ve got the picture."_ _

__"Jesus, Steve," Sam breathed. "You make married life sound good."_ _

__"I know," he grinned, running his calloused fingers softly down Sam’s broad shoulders, "and I can't wait for us to get home so we can start playing house."_ _

__"Who says we have to wait?"_ _


End file.
